


Two Faces

by badwitchtypeshit



Category: Bleach, Naruto
Genre: Dimension Travel, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Friendship, Fuuinjutsu Master Uzumaki Naruto, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:41:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24741715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwitchtypeshit/pseuds/badwitchtypeshit
Summary: Naruto wants a family. And he'll get one, whether these judgemental bastards like it or not.Ichigo just doesn't want history to repeat itself, and if it means tumbling into another dimension, gaining a few friends and some help too, well.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Itachi, Hirako Shinji/Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Byakuya/Shihouin Yoruichi, Shihouin Yoruichi/Urahara Kisuke
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Two Faces

Naruto

I suppose I should have been more excited about my birthday. I should have worn my goggles, grinned like the morning sun, proclaimed my dream to be Hokage and made various annoying statements ending with 'dattebayo'.

I was not in the mood.

The tenth of October meant different things to different people.

To some, it was a reminder of the day the Kyuubi no Youko attacked Konohagakure.  
To others, it was the day the Yondaime Hokage sacrificed himself to save the village. Truthfully, this was the same thing as the first meaning, but people loved to differentiate between them.

For this reason, there was a festival held every year on that day. People used it as an opportunity to pay their respects tall those who died in the attack, to revel in the glory that was the Yondaime Hokage, to celebrate another year without incident.

It was also the day to be more... direct with their hatred of me. Usually, they’d ignore me. They’d gossip about me, instruct their children to stay away from me – bonus points if they bullied me too, I think - and generally made me wish I could just melt into the ground and cease to exist.

I think I’d rather be punched and kicked – as I was once in a blue moon - than to be treated as though I was a plague. Sucks to be me though, I never get things I want.  
Except ramen, which, hello, it’s the food of the gods.

On my birthday, they made sure to vandalize my home though. Stole what could be stolen, broke what couldn’t be stolen, that sort of thing. It was a mess. I mean, more of a mess than usual.

Two years ago, I'd been kicked out of the orphanage, so Jiji got me an apartment and gave me an allowance once a month.

Imagine giving a five and a half year old a home in the red light district. One where I got to hear people having sex, husbands battering their wives and children, and the odd indoor spar.

Again, a mess.

This led up to now.

I woke up, feeling... down, and almost violently rubbed at my eyes to clear my vision. Not that it helped. Things were always somewhat blurry to me. I wasn't ready to wake up. It’s my birthday, right? I should get to sleep in.

Haha, psych. You thought. 

I had a meeting with Jiji, apparently. Sigh.

I made my way to the living room, blindly making my way to the kitchen with my eyes shut. Who needs to see where they’re going in their own apartment? Not me.

Of course, that’s when I stepped in something. Something liquid. Something that definitely wasn’t water because the roof doesn’t leak. So, either my living room got flooded without affecting my bedroom... it was probably pee.

Standing stock still, I peeked an eye open. Yeah, definitely pee. 

I resolutely didn’t look at anything else. Just closed my eyes again and fumbled towards the refri- refrigi – 

The fridge. Yeesh.

Expired milk, jam, soon to be spoiled watermelon, water... yep, the usual.

I picked out the watermelon, slamming the fridge door shut, and shoved it in my mouth, wincing slightly at the smell it was starting to have.

On second thought, I probably should’ve just had cup ramen. I just wasn’t in the mood.

Somehow, I managed to ignore the stench of my living room and walked back to my bedroom. I set aside the clothes I was going to wear; a black shirt with a bowl of ramen on the front, green shorts and blue sandals – a fashion disaster of epic proportions, I tell you - before making my way to the bathroom and performing my daily routine.

Fully dressed twenty minutes later, I left my apartment and made my way to the Hokage tower, studiously avoiding the villagers. As I mentioned earlier, they didn't touch me or even speak to me, but they didn't have to.

Their expressions spoke volumes of the complete and utter loathing they had for me.

Everyone ignored me as I slowly made my way up the stairs, still rubbing my eyes – really, really need glasses – and when I finally reached the doors to Jiji's office, I had to stop and catch my breath.

Whoever thought it was a good idea to design the tower with over seventy stairs – I don’t have the patience to count any higher than that - must have been pure evil.

Or a ninja. The way I saw it, there really wasn't much difference.

"Good morning, Jiji," I yawned after the nice ANBU pushed the doors to his office open.

The Hokage who had come to be my grandfather figure sat alone in the drab space wearing an indulgent smile. His wrinkles were still present, as were those weird spots on his skin. 

Idly, I wondered if he ever took the Kage robes and hat off. It’s hot in Konoha, he must be dying.

It felt kind of weird that I hadn't even considered putting on the Kage hat, if only to further enforce my dream to be Hokage. I was just. so tired. And sleepy. 

For once, stacks of paperwork did not occupy the table. Instead, there sat a bowl of dumplings, a variety of fruit drinks, dango and ramen noodles.

I took a careful sniff. Yep, ramen from old man Teuchi’s store. Jiji has great taste.

"Happy birthday, Naruto-kun," Jiji said as I practically tumbled into his arms behind the desk. “What do you say to a breakfast buffet?”

My eyes grew as wide as saucers as I stared at all the food in front of me.

"It's all mine, Jiji?" I asked, eyes still trained on the table.

Jiji chuckled, raspy and old. "Of course, Naruto-kun. It's your birthday, you can have whatever you want.”

I think I grinned for a split second, before clambering to sit on the table and practically inhaling it all.

I wondered what my mother's cooking would've tasted like. Would it have been mouthwatering, like this? Or would she not know how to cook, like Kiba’s mom? Would my dad know how to cook then? It’d be fine if they didn’t, that’s what ramen is for, right?

I blinked back tears. Who were my parents anyway?

I'd asked Jiji about them like a million times, but he always said he'd tell me when I was old enough.

Hope blossomed in my chest. Maybe I’m old enough now?

"Jiji?"

No answer.

I twisted around to look at the Hokage and called him again.

Still no answer.

He had this faraway look in his eyes, and I followed his gaze to one of the pictures on the wall. 

The Yondaime’s. 

I squinted at it. Huh. He had really blonde hair. Brighter than Ino’s. Almost like-

Mine.

I choked on my juice, hacking and coughing.

And then it happened. A chill washed over the room, bearing down on me. Wheezing and gasping for breath, I rolled off the table, then started to tug Jiji’s robes.

My grandfather turned to look at me, a blank stare in place.

I was tearing up, black spots dancing in my eyes. "Why...?" I struggled to say. 

Why was he doing this? What was going on?

A fog seemed to clear from his eyes. His posture relaxed minutely, and he lifted an eyebrow at me.

"Naruto? Why are you on the floor?"

I stared at him, mouth agape, body completely shaken, and terrified as hell.

"Naruto, what's wrong?" Came the Hokage's voice again.

I shook my head, getting to my feet and wobbling a bit.

"Naruto." His tone was firmer this time. I flinched, he furrowed his brows.

I turned around and ran, away from his office away from the tower. I didn’t have any idea where I was going, bumping into people and leaving strings of curses in my wake. All I knew was that I had to get away.

Tearing to the trees with fatigue biting at my heels, I wondered.

What happened to Jiji?

.

“You owe me, senpai.”  
“Yes, yes, kohai, I know.”

.

Ichigo

I didn't like the fact that I could see ghosts - “Pluses, Ichigo, they’re pluses.” “Yeah, yeah, mom.” - I mean, wasn't it bad enough that I had orange hair a ridiculously short temper? Apparently not.   
I could hardly tell them apart from normal people, and the worst part was my hand didn't go through them like in movies. So long as I could see them, I could touch them and hear them too.

Everyday, it was one brawl after the other, because apparently it was fun to pick on the small, orange haired weird kid who talked to himself. Tatsuki thought I was a brat, and liked to rant about looking before leaping, but she could never resist joining in to bust some heads, the little sadist. We almost never lost to anyone but each other - the score was 27 to 11 and as much as I would love to say she was only in the lead because I didn't like hitting girls, I'd be lying. She was just really, really good.

We'd go to my house after school, after leaving the dojo with more and more bruises, and my dad being wacky as usual. He would intentionally make it hurt as he patched us up, to teach us a lesson or something, but he gave up when we turned eight.

It was... nice. Tatsuki was family. My best friend and first sister, until Yuzu and Karin. Dad was dad, a crazy old man who would do anything mom said the moment she fluttered her lashes - Tatsuki sometimes did it to try and catch me off guard, and only succeeded in blinding herself. Mom was mom, proud of me for standing up for myself, but also trying – and failing – to convince me that I didn’t always need to solve things with my fists.

I wanted to be strong enough for her. To protect her. To protect all of them. That’s what my name meant, right?

And yet, when it came down to it, I couldn’t do a single thing, huh?

It was on the 17th of June a year later that I started to hate the stupid ghosts. All of them.   
Loitering about. Moaning and wailing. It wasn't my fault they were dead, so why did I have to listen to them, huh? 

It was their fault mom died. 

Or maybe it was mine for deciding to be nice and try to save that stupid brat by the river.

It didn't matter anyway. I failed.

Weeks later, I was still a mess. I stopped going to the dojo, and ignored all the teasing at school. “I have the same hair as my mom, and my mom is dead. Say another word, I fucking dare you.”

One smartass had, actually, said quite a few words.

I broke his jaw. 

I wasn't really picked on after that.

Tatsuki still came over everyday, helped me with homework, and silently followed me to the river, even though we both know there was nothing to be found there. She didn't nag me anymore, but never failed to rile me up ever so often, asking for a fight. I always said no.

"My fighting days are over, Tatsu," I shrugged, my knees pulled up to my chin as I stared at the kids playing soccer in the park.

"You're just saying that," she scoffed. "I bet you'll be up and at me again whenever you decide you're done moping."

I was almost offended. Almost. Moping wasn't quite the word I'd use, after all, but mom was as much hers as she was mine, so I held my tongue.

"I'm telling you, I'm done."

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I think I'd rather help than hurt."

"Helping was what-" she stopped short, glancing away guiltily.

I stiffened at the words, but otherwise remained still.

Helping was what got her killed, was what she'd almost said.

"Well," I sucked in a breath, "how come you're... over it already?"

I didn't cry. My eyes may have stung but I refused to cry. It was a stupid habit that had died with my mom. Besides, big boys didn't cry.

Right?

She thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I don't think she'd want us to keep crying and crying and crying. She was always smiling, wasn't she?"

"I... guess so."

"Plus, she loved watching you fight, Ichigo. She was the one who signed you up at the dojo, right?"

Hesitant, I nodded.

"And you were a cry-baby, but she still watched every match and cheered you on," she continued.  
"I want to be a doctor, like dad."

"Doctors take an oath not to kill. Nobody said anything about fighting," she rolled her eyes.  
"I don't wanna hurt anybody."

Tatsuki was silent, and I thought she'd given up. "Then don't," she sighed. "But remember, if it's a choice between the people I want to protect - you, Ichigo - and anybody else, I will always choose you."

I stared at her, noticing her blush and cracked a smile. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"Sounds like you've got a crush on me," I sang cheekily.

Before I could blink, she'd whacked me hard upside the head. "Ow!" I yelped.

"Watch it, strawberry, I will whoop your butt!”

“Hey!”

And then she laughed, and I did too.

.

"Hey, kid!"

I held back a sigh, whipping around to answer. I looked up, down and everywhere really, but there was nobody there - asides from a black cat. I stared at it.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to stare?"

I blinked at it. It's mouth had moved, and words had come out of it. The jab at my mom was studiously ignored.

"A talking... cat?" I breathed in wonder, moving towards it.

"Yes, a talking cat!"

I squatted down to its level. It rolled its eyes. "You're a talking cat."

It seemed to groan and covered one eye with a paw. "Yes, I'm a cat, and I can talk."

I stifled a laugh. "I'm Ichigo. Do you have a name?"

If this was a plus, it sure was a weird one. I'd never seen an animal ghost before, so maybe it wasn't that bad.

"Yoruichi," it purred.

"Come home with me?"

If dad wouldn't let me keep it, Tatsuki could take it.

I'm not sure if it actually chuckled, but I liked to think not.

.

Naruto

In the days that followed my birthday, I was... different. I wouldn't speak unless spoken to – and who ever spoke to me except to tell me how much of a failure I was? – and I just... slept. A lot. I mean, come on, what was the point? I wasn’t taught right anyway

I forgot all about being Hokage.

The academy frustrated me. Like. A whole lot. I didn't want their recognition anymore. I wanted to be treated like anyone else, but I wasn't, and I didn't yet know why. I was determined to find out.

As embarrassing as it is to admit, I couldn't exactly read or write. Not because I was dumb – Shun-sensei, this one’s for you-, but because I'd never been taught. The clan kids - Sasuke, Kiba, Shikamaru, Hinata, Ino, Choji and... oh, right, Shino - and civilian kids had all learned it before they got here, and even some techniques too.

The benefits of having a family then.

My mind flashed back to the day I ran from the Hokage, and the shed I'd accidentally stumbled into.

-  
I'd tripped and fell a couple of times, but I kept running until I found myself at the gates of Konoha... and past it. A part of my brain remembered that there should've been guards, festival or not, but I didn't particularly care.

I'd barreled inside the shed... shack... let's call it a cabin... before I started to take notice of my surroundings. It was fairly new, without a single dust mite in sight. Walking slowly around showed that there was a small living room, a tiny bedroom, an even tinier kitchen and no bathroom.

"H-hello?"

There was no answer. It was really starting to remind me of the horror movie jiji had told me no to watch but I'd gone ahead and watched anyway, and the worst part? I had no idea how to get back.

Something shiny caught my eye as I entered the bedroom a second time; a forehead protector. It looked like Konoha's... but it was just a swirl.

"...what...?"

I made to touch it, and was thrown at the closet by an invisible force. The area around the forehead protector glowed green for a few more seconds, and then went back to normal. Like magic. My whole body hurt, and my ears were ringing, but by now my curiosity was more important. I pushed the closet door open and stared dumbly at rows of scrolls, books, brushes and... a picture book? Of course I went for the picture book. Regular books were too boring.

Also, can’t read.

On the cover was a dull drawing of the moon, and the word 'Uzumaki '. You don't have to ask if I opened it. The first page had a picture of nine animals, with lots of tails. The second had the signs of each hidden village, with the same animals beside each one. The third had a village with redheads and floating chains, all fighting. The next showed the village destroyed and redheads scattering throughout the Elemental Nations. Then came a picture of a woman with red hair and purple eyes, with a blonde haired, blue eyed man.

I squinted at it.

"Isn’t that... the yondaime!?"

His hair really is like mine...

In seconds, I was unconscious.

-

Naruto didn't notice the silver haired figure watching silently until he blacked out from shock. He didn't hear the person chuckle, or see them pack a few scrolls, brushes and the same picture book into a bag, or feel them lift him and body flicker back to his own apartment. He didn't know there were sealing materials next to him as he fidgeted in his sleep. He didn't know about his guardian and he didn't know that anything even remotely related to canon was about to be shot to hell.

-

"Uzumaki Naruto!"

I'd jumped, staring blearily around the classroom. Right. I'd dozed off during Shin-sensei's lesson. One, I didn't care, since I was dead last anyway. Two, he was boring.

"-if I catch you asleep one more time -"

I could hear everyone snickering, and Sasuke's haughty chuckle - because, apparently, Uchiha do not just snicker or laugh - and studiously ignored it. Instead, I focused on Shikamaru's calm, even breathing beside me -of course Shin-sensei woke me and not him. Clan benefits are so annoying - and managed not to talk back to the teacher. It only made things worse.

"-you understand?!"

"Yes, sensei," was my response, with the most blank expression I could manage (I was getting lessons from Shika). If he was surprised, he didn't show it - ninja hack - and simply nodded, before returning to the front of the class.

"-said he's a demon-"

"-doesn't have parents too-"

"-so scary-"

"-would just die."

Choji, sitting on my other side, offered me a bag of chips. I took it, glad for the distraction. 

Shikamaru's knee bumped mine, and I allowed myself a smile.

-

Fuinjutsu is hard. Very hard. Now, take that into consideration when you know that I can barely read, and my kanji is shit.

Eventually, two weeks after my little excursion, I'd gotten the nerve to open that mysterious bag in the corner. Inside it was the same picture book, scrolls, brushes, ink and a note.

'If you don't want to pass out again, learn fuinjutsu. And don't tell anyone,' it read.

Of course, I only understood 'fuinjutsu'. The only problem was I couldn't get into the library without a henge, and my henge sucked. Unless I'd wear a disguise... but it'd take ages for that.

The next best thing was to show up at Shikamaru's house at 11am on a Saturday morning, swallow my pride, and beg him to teach me.

The glare he gave me could melt a tree. 

Not burn, melt.

With a long-suffering sigh, he let me in and we trudged to his room after I'd greeted his mother. 

She didn't like me, I knew, but she tolerated me because I was her son's friend.

"So what do you want, 'ruto?"

I felt my cheeks redden, unsure if it was from the nickname or the embarrassment.

"I can't read," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" He fixed me with a calculating look.

"I can't read. Or write," I focused on the floorboards.

"Yeah, I know that. So?"

I groaned because of course he knew what I wanted, he was just into torture. "Can you... teach me?"

Shikamaru pretended to think. "I don't know... it could prove really troublesome..."

"I'll set Ino on you," I threatened weakly.

"You don't even talk to her," he rolled his eyes.

"Choji won't be happy to hear it," I tried again.

"Why not ask him to teach you?"

"Shikamaru, come on, I'm begging!" Finally I met his eyes.

He sniffed. “Troublesome."

I waved my fist at him and he lazily stuck out a foot for me to trip over, smirking at my indignant squawks.

Shika is mean.

.

It was a wonderful Saturday morning in Karakura town, as it's residents hustled about in a leisurely manner, easing into the weekend. Of course, our focus is on the Kurosaki household where Isshin and Karin were working at the clinic, Yuzu was watching cartoons and Ichigo was huddled in his closet, listening to a cat.

"-so then, the stupidly brave reaper fought Ulquiora and finally won!"

"Woah! Really?!"

Yoruichi was a very good storyteller, I'd learned, when he started to tell me tales of 'Bleach'. Dad and the twins didn't know he could talk because he always pretended not to, and it never really crossed my mind to mention it.

It was apparently all about a strawberry haired highschool student who could see pluses and became a substitute soul reaper, fighting bad guys or something.

"Yes, he was a lucky bastard," Yoruichi grumbled with a roll of his eyes. I didn't see why you would tell children a story about a hero and then get bothered about their enthusiasm, but hey, I wasn't a cat.

"Ne, Yoruichi-chan," the cat twitched because we all knew I had a thing for being cheeky, "what was his name?"

"His name...?" He observed me with a thoughtful look. "His name was Kurosaki Ichigo."

What.

"What?" I blinked, dumbfounded.

Yoruichi laughed with a sharp glint in his eyes. "You must really have been hit hard if you don't remember your own life story when you hear it, Ichigo."

.

An hour later, I stood in front of the now closed Urahara shop, where Yoruichi had disappeared into once we arrived. After dropping that bombshell, he'd led me to the shop because apparently I could "get all the answers we sought".

I thought he was messing with me. I was pretty sure Tatsuki would agree.

"Welcome, Kurosaki!" A voice boomed as the doors suddenly slammed open. A tall, dark skinned man with cornrows, wearing glasses and an apron struck a pose. "Would you like some candy?!"

"I don't like candy," I declared with a sniff, which was a lie. "And where's Yoruichi-chan anyway?"

"Maa, maa, Yoruichi, are you sure he doesn't remember you?" Another man seemed to giggle behind his fan. His geta sandals clicked as he walked towards me, and I personally thought it was weird how his hat covered his eyes.

He squatted down in front of us, with what looked like a welcoming smile. "Ohayo, Ichigo. I am Urahara, and that is my assistant, Tessai-san."

I wrinkled my nose. "Yoruichi's your pet? You smell funny. Like Tatsuki's grandma's room. How old are you anyway?"

"Ha!" A woman snarked, sitting on the roof. She had purple hair and the same eyes as Yoruichi. 

"Believe me now, Kisuke?"

Urahara frowned at her.

"What did Yoruichi mean when he said I'd hit my head?" Was the next thing I asked.

He observed me for a minute, thinking. He sighed. "During your battle with Aizen, he was losing. Horribly. So he did something - we don't know what - and somehow the clock of life rewound."

I stared. "You're saying I fought the leader of the Espada - apparently - and then we all went back ten years in the past."

A beat.

"Yes, that's exactly what we're saying," Tessai said.

A short laugh escaped me. "Prove it."

.

Of all the things Urahara showed me, it was a tiny lion plushie that jogged my memory. 'Kon' lunged for me, ranting and crying about how much he'd missed me and how young and adorable I looked. 

It was... weird. Super weird.

Urahara said he would continue to hold onto him until I was ready to take him - much to the mod soul's despair. It couldn't be helped though. Yuzu would snatch the toy the minute I brought it through the door and that would definitely not be ideal.

Yoruichi was apparently a female. And an exiled noble. And a former captain. Most importantly, the cat was a woman. Which I found incredibly creepy.

And my father was a shinigami. That blew every other discovery out of the water. To confront him or not to confront him, that was the question.

I knew what was most likely to happen in the future now. I'd meet a reaper named Rukia, become a reaper too - a substitute reaper but whatever - and try to save her, alongside Chad, Ishida and Orihime, and-

No Tatsuki. My 'future' didn't seem to involve Tatsuki, and that's what made me pause. I refused to do it all over without her.

In hindsight, maybe climbing through her bedroom window and offloading all I'd heard in the past twelve hours wasn't such a good idea.

Her first instinct was to kick me out, literally. She then hurried to the window, realizing what she'd done. I'd somewhat expected that, so I managed not to break anything and climbed up again.  
Tatsuki scanned me for injuries, probably feeling guilty even though she would never admit it. Dad called her a tsundere for that reason, but whatever.

"What was that about a talking cat?"

Oh, yeah. It was rather convenient that Yoruichi was never around whenever my best - and only - friend came over. This meant I'd never told Tatsuki about him - her - because there was no use without any proof.

Ghosts, she could grasp ( and I think spending so much time around me had made it so that she could at least see vague outlines of ghosts), but talking animals? No.

Regardless, I told her the whole story, from the day I found the cat-woman-ex-captain, to the tales of 'Bleach' and visiting the Urahara shop earlier today.

As expected, she stayed quiet, maybe wondering if I'd hit my head somewhere on the way to her house.

"Look-"

"I believe you, Ichigo," she cut me off. "It all sounds hilariously insane, but you're not one to make things up. Heck, I don't think your brain could handle it -"

"Hey!"

"- but there's one problem."

I nearly shivered at her expression. Serious Tatsuki was scary. Nevermind that I was technically older by a year.

"Isn't this all part of Aizen's plan? Maybe some last-ditch effort to plan ahead and beat you this time?"

"I don't think so. Urahara said it didn't look planned. He was desperate.”

It made sense. A lot of sense. By that logic, though...

"Wouldn't all of the Gotei 13 remember that he was a traitor and have him killed immediately?"

I hummed as she settled down next to me at the foot of her bed. "They don't though, which means only a few people do remember. Maybe people I had the most contact with?"

"So, Rukia, Renji, Urahara, Yoruichi, Tessai, the Vizard...?"

"I'd say Orihime, Chad and Ishida too. The first two, probably not, but Ishida's a Quincy. He should know... something. Anything," I'd continued.

"I guess I won't fit in your life anymore, huh?" Tatsuki sighed, looking out of her window.

I turned sharply to look at her because that was the entire reason I'd come in the first place. "You will. You always will."

"Not according to your story," was her counter.

"My story didn't say anything about being approached by Yoruichi the first time around. It's changing already," I threw back.

"Hey, hey, don't get mad at me," her lips pulled down in what almost looked like a pout.

I huffed, turning away. I wasn't ashamed to sulk. I mean, I already had a reputation as a crybaby, didn't I?

There was silence for a short while.

"Do you think Urahara could start training you a little early? And... maybe train me too?"

"...maybe," I agreed.

I went home not long after, my head spinning with everything I'd learned.

There was no guarantee that everything would happen exactly the way it had the first time around. Whether it did or not, I had to be prepared. 

.

Hinata was not a full Hyūga.

Now, the Hyūga clan aren't the type to keep records of things that are abnormal. Oh no, they're rather paranoid bunch. Whatever deep, dark secret you really want to know, there's most likely some elder who knows something about it.

Population? Who married who? The bare-bones basics of their dojutsu? You could easily find.  
But definitely not matters like these.

Hinata was not a full Hyūga.

Hiashi and Hizashi's father, Hitoshi, was an... odd Hyūga. He had the grace, the pride, the intimidating stare and impeccable skill. But sometimes, just sometimes, he was utterly insane.

Like the time he requested circus performers at the new year's festival. The elders would have thrown a fit if they'd known. But they hadn't. Hitoshi had acted without consulting them and managed to keep it from them until the day of the festival. Boy, were they mad.

The twins were young men by then, 19 and both jonin.

There was the one they called Butterfly. A dancer, with impossibly pale skin and long purple hair. Her face was mostly obscured by a sparkly blue mask. Butterfly's outfit was... scandalous to say the least. It basically consisted a white bikini with sequins, and large blue plastic wings attached.

She stood, in front of the lake on the far end of the compound, surveying the crowd of mostly stoic Hyūga.

It wasn't often her circus got to perform for shinobi. I mean, these were people who could breathe fire and walk on water. What would you possibly hope to impress them with?

She locked eyes with Hiashi and his eyes widened a fraction, before narrowing in suspicion. The young woman smirked, leaped onto the lake and began her delicate, yet intoxicating dance.

Too bad they were going to rob them blind.

Butterfly was definitely not a shinobi. But she had some degree of chakra control. Soon, the majority of the clan were asleep.

Hiashi fought the illusion with every fibre of his being, while acrobats silently raided the compound, and Butterfly's attention was drawn. So she put him in a completely different illusion.

The details are largely unknown, but Hiashi engaged in sexual intercourse with her, and then fell asleep as well.

2 years later, Hitoshi Hyūga is dead - poisoned by a fellow clan member because Hyūga keep grudges like that - and a little girl with inky, almost-purple hair , white eyes and plastic butterfly wings shows up at the clan gates.

As we said, Hinata was not a full Hyūga.

.

Hinata knew she was of no use to the clan, except as a weapon.

Her father had had to marry his sixth cousin or so, and now there was Hanabi. The clan heir. It didn't bother her as much as it could've, considering she had honestly just wanted to be an acrobat.

The clan kept her away from the public eye. There was only Hanabi, and that was that.

Her father could easily have turned her away, but, let's face it, a little girl with white eyes walking around Konoha would raise plenty of questions. They had barely managed to keep the circus incident under wraps after all.

Hinata was trained vicously. Full Hyūga or not, she had the Byakugan, and therefore a target.  
That's not to say they did it because they cared for her well-being. Oh, no. The eyes simply couldn't fall into enemy hands.

The caged bird seal would easily have made this unnecessary... if there wasn't already a seal on her. Put by her mother, no doubt, on her nape, it rejected any other seals.

Simply put, she was a thorn that couldn't be gotten rid of, and not just because - for some bizarre reason - Hiashi wouldn't allow it.

.

Inoue Orihime didn't remember what it was like to have parents. Inoue Orihime didn't remember what it felt like to be loved. Inoue Orihime didn't remember anything.

(Except the pale man with bat wings.)

Auntie Mia had lived in the United States. She sent money for her and Sora's upkeep. Anything that required parental consent, for any reason, auntie Mia would handle it.

(She remembered six little... things. Fairies? Sprites?)

The US was strange, compared to Japan. Hair like hers was rather common, for one. And English. She was sure she would never really get all the unnecessary slangs.

(She remembered the boy with orange hair.)

Inoue Orihime had spent a year with her aunt, at Sora’s request. He needed to put some things in order, and then he’d be able to take her back. Sora-nii was nice. Taking care of her... was that love?

(Like the tall boy with strong arms, or the thin one with glasses and a bow, or the orange haired one with a giant sword.)

Between living with auntie Mia – who ran a drug smuggling ring, no wonder she could easily afford to take care of them – and dealing with the... dreams? Memories?... she had changed so much, she could scarcely remember herself. 

It made Sora-nii sad. And she hated making him sad.

(The girl used to be sad a lot. The... shinigami? With purple eyes.)

His welcome home present to her was a pair of hairpins.

(“I reject!”)

She gave him the dagger auntie Mia’s husband had given her.

Sora-nii’s expression turned stormy.

But she wasn’t really looking at him. No.

There was a monster behind them, and the red haired person was dressed just like the purple eyed girl and the orange haired boy.

And then he turned, as if feeling her eyes on him.

Orihime shivered, then took her brother’s hand and left the train station.

(“Inoue-san...”)

She had to find them. All of them.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, please  
> I'm almost 100% sure Naruto's squint is not normal. At all.  
> Sorry about Orihime-chan


End file.
